


Turning Point

by VampireMadonna



Category: Eyewitness (US TV)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, poor suffering fools, someone save them from themselves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 03:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8605309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampireMadonna/pseuds/VampireMadonna
Summary: After the disastrous "meeting of the families", things come to a head for Philip and Lukas .





	1. Philip

**Author's Note:**

> This is a mish-mash of the Norwegian version, the U.S. version and my own personal spin on things for episode 6.

* * *

He didn’t know why he did it.

Okay, that was a lie. He knew exactly why he did it. He was angry and hurt and tired of being alone.

He shouldn’t have gone but he couldn’t help himself.

Lukas had made it abundantly clear earlier at that disaster of a lunch – he still cringed just thinking about it – that he wasn’t welcome.

_“Just a small group of friends,”_ he’d said when his dad had mentioned the party he’d be having that evening. _“Nothing big. Don’t want to risk having the house torn up.”_

“Just a small group of _friends_ ”, i.e., not Philip. And it was a lie, anyway. It was the only thing the kids at school had been talking about all week: the big bash at the Waldenbeck farm. Everyone was invited. Everyone except Philip, that is.

Even Gabe and Helen had heard the unspoken message. The pity on their faces had almost been too much.

After lunch, he’d stewed in his room for hours, feeling like crap and driving himself crazy thinking about the party, before eventually jumping onto his bike and taking off, no destination in mind. He’d just wanted to clear his head and it wasn’t like he had anywhere to go.

He hadn’t meant to – or so he told himself – but he wasn’t that surprised to find himself at the farm. But did he walk through the front door like everyone else? No. Instead he hid in the bushes, watching the kids drinking and laughing and having a good time like some fucking peeping tom. He only revealed himself a little when Lukas appeared, Rose on his tail as usual.

The backyard had cleared up by then, most of the activity having moved indoors with the setting sun, and they were alone. She was hanging onto Lukas’ arm, fingers tight as if she let go he’d disappear forever. Philip knew the feeling well.

She was chattering away and Lukas was sipping from a bottle, staring off across the farm into the distance. He didn’t seem to be paying any attention to her; she didn’t seem to notice.

Philip watched him from his spot, half-hidden behind a large tree, silently beseeching Lukas to _see_ him; to show him that he wasn’t as invisible to him as Rose apparently was.

He didn’t, not at first. Not until Rose tugged on his arm, probably finally realizing that Lukas’ mind was miles away. When he shifted to look down at her, his gaze swung back towards Philip. He stared at him for a long moment before turning to Rose, dismissing Philip as if he hadn’t seen him at all.

It hurt and that should’ve been enough but he wouldn’t have been Lukas if he’d stopped there. No, he needed to drive the point home of how little Philip meant to him; of how he’d made his choice and Philip wasn’t it. He was never going to be.

Before Rose could open her mouth to complain or nag, whatever she’d intended to say, Lukas cupped her cheek and kissed her.

Philip stood frozen, unable to do anything but watch even while his already bruised heart shattered into a million pieces.

When the kiss ended, Rose plastered herself to Lukas’ side, resting her head on his shoulder as she caught her breath. Lukas’ attention, however, had returned to Philip. The look he gave him was cold and pointed and Philip knew without a doubt – not that he’d had any – that the kiss had been completely for his benefit.

Draping an arm around Rose, Lukas took one last swig from his bottle, capped it and pelted it at Philip. Philip barely managed to duck behind the tree before it hit him in the face.

Lukas said something indistinguishable, at which Rose laughed, but by the time Philip stepped out from behind his cover again, they were already walking up the back steps.

He’d stood there, he didn’t know for how long, feeling like absolute shit. He didn’t know what to do, or where to go. Definitely not back to the house. It was the last place he wanted to be.

Without realizing it, he’d picked up Lukas’ bottle. He opened it and took a big gulp, not caring what it was or how it burned going down his throat. As he pressed his lips to the mouth of the bottle a second time, he closed his eyes, realizing that this might be the closest he ever came to kissing Lukas again.

And it was his own fault.

Turning away, he started walking aimlessly, clutching the bottle to his chest like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

He understood why Lukas was angry; why he felt betrayed. But in Philip’s defense he’d felt like he’d had no other option at the time. Lukas had been spiraling out of control from the beginning, unable to deal with what they’d seen and what was developing between them; making bad decision after bad decision and dragging Philip into his schemes whether he wanted to be involved or not. At first, Philip had tried his best to be there for him, to shoulder Lukas’ troubles the way he’d shouldered his mom’s addiction. But when Lukas had asked him to get him drugs, he’d finally realized just how badly off he really was; how much he needed more help than Philip alone could give him. So he’d done the only thing he could do: he’d gone to Helen and told her the truth.

He remembered the relief he’d felt, to finally be able to say the words. Even though he hadn’t told her about his part in it, knowing that Lukas would be angry enough, it had still felt like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. He’d thought, _hoped_ , that things would finally start getting better. Lukas would get the help he needed; Helen would finally catch a break in her case; and maybe, just maybe, when Lukas got over his anger and realized that Philip had really had his best interests at heart, they could finally explore whatever it was that was brewing between them. He’d known that Lukas would be angry, at least at first, but he’d hoped that with time he’d understand and forgive him.

But boy, had he been wrong.

Firstly, Lukas had denied it when confronted, unsurprisingly, but when Helen had searched the stream for the gun, they’d found nothing. It took him a little while to accept it but eventually he’d had to admit to himself that Lukas had gone back for the gun without telling him. It was simply too much of a coincidence that after Lukas had seen it again, and they’d covered it up with stones and debris, it had suddenly disappeared altogether. Later on, Lukas had admitted as much.

With Lukas’ denial and no evidence, Helen had started doubting the validity of Philip’s story and even Gabe, who’d been his champion since he first came to live with them, seemed unsure. Without his knowledge, Helen had sought advice from the school counselor, who’d recommended a therapist who treated kids “like him”: children who grew up in the system or came from troubled homes. Somehow they’d come to the conclusion that his story, his _lie_ , was his way of seeking attention. That somehow he needed the fantasy, even a fucking murder mystery, to feel like he was important; to feel like he was a part of something.

He’d tried to explain himself to them, never once changing his story because he wasn’t lying and his pride wouldn’t let him take it back, but his pleas had fallen on deaf ears. He couldn’t stop them from forcing him to see the therapist but he hadn’t said a word to her during the sessions and nothing to Helen or Gabe since. He could see how much his frosty silence hurt Gabe but Helen seemed sure of her decision, which only pissed him off further. He’d thought that they knew him better than that but apparently he’d been wrong. Realizing that had brought unexpected hurt and on a particularly bad day, anger boiling in his veins, he’d called CPS and asked to be removed from the home, saying that it wasn’t working out. He’d said that it was obvious that they didn’t really want a foster child, or at least not him, and had decided in advance that if push came to shove, he’d use the fact that he was gay as the reason for it. He didn’t want to lie on them as they _were_ good people but he could no longer see himself staying there until he graduated high school. There was way too much time left and he knew that if something didn’t give soon, he’d just leave on his own, high school degree be damned.

Besides, it was no less than they deserved for not believing him, a hard little voice had reasoned. Lukas wasn’t the only one who’d been betrayed.

Speaking of, it wasn’t surprising that word got around the school about the Sheriff’s foster kid being in therapy. The daughter of the guidance counselor – who attended the same high school because small town life, right? – had somehow found out about it and probably couldn’t help herself. Now, not only did everyone know that he was gay but they also thought that he had behavioural problems as well. He’d thought being ignored by the entire school population was bad; the constant judgmental looks, snide comments and having his locker repeatedly vandalized were a thousand times worse.

And Lukas, who knew the truth, who could’ve put an end to it all if he’d wanted to, did and said nothing. He just stood there and let it all happen. What was worse was that he had the audacity to look at Philip as if it were his own fault, as if he _deserved_ it.

Maybe to some extent it _was_ his fault, he thought bitterly, taking another sip of the foul liquor. He’d promised Lukas that he wouldn’t tell Helen and Lukas had trusted him. Then he’d broken that trust. It didn’t matter that he did it with the best of intentions, a promise was a promise and he’d broken it. He of all people, who trusted pretty much no one, knew how sacred trust was. For most of his life, he’d only been able to count on and trust himself and he understood Lukas’ situation enough to know that the trust he put in Philip meant more than even Philip probably realized.

It had been a tough call and he still thought he’d done the right thing. He’d been making tough decisions his entire life but with his mom it was a lot more black and white. Drugs were always the wrong choice. With Lukas, not so much. There were too many variables in play and he had very little power over any of them. It made it hard to foresee the repercussions of the decisions he made and, well, he’d learned the hard way this time, hadn’t he? He’d lost Lukas, lost whatever he could’ve built with Gabe and Helen. If he’d kept his mouth shut, things might’ve been good for just a little while longer. It wouldn’t have lasted, he knew that, but it still would’ve been better than where he was now.

Alone and well on the way to being drunk on the side of a road.

_Wait, road?_

Stumbling to a halt, eyelids at half-mast, he looked around, only just realizing where he was. Somehow he’d made it off the Waldenbeck farm and a good distance down the main road without noticing it. He’d come with his bike but he’d stashed it behind a barn and with the sun gone, and in his current condition, he didn’t think he could find it even if he managed to make his way back.

Sighing to himself, he tipped the bottle back and swallowed a large gulp before tucking it under his arm and continuing in the direction that his body had apparently chosen for him.

He could call Gabe for a ride but…yeah, how about _no_? Gabe would tell Helen, who would insist on coming along and once she took a look at him, she’d feel justified in her opinion of him as a lost cause. She might even think he needed AA too. And who knew, maybe she was right. Maybe the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree. Heaven knew that Lukas was like a drug to him; his own addiction. Maybe he had more in common with his mother than he realized.

_It just wasn’t fair_ , he thought forlornly.

He could hear his mother’s voice in his head telling him not to feel sorry for himself.

_“Life isn’t fair, honey. It is what you make of it.”_

She’d told him that once when he’d gotten into a fight in middle school. A kid had been picking on him and he’d stood up for himself, which led to the kid lashing out and him hitting back, but _he’d_ been the only one to get detention after a long lecture about putting his hands on other kids. He understood the sentiment of his mother’s words; he just didn’t see how they were applicable to his current situation, or even his past one. He’d been a little kid needing comfort, not some depressing saying about how fucked he was going to be in life because he’d drawn some karmic shit-end of the stick.

He loved his mother, she was his world and he had done and would do literally anything for her, but even in that moment she’d failed him.

Once upon a time she’d almost fought another kid’s mother for him. He couldn’t remember why but he did remember being in awe of her. She’d looked like an Amazon princess, tall and unbreakable. But he’d been younger then and she’d been…better. Sometimes his mom could be so fierce and strong and others…

_Whatever_ , he thought, shrugging off the pain such memories brought with them. He’d be okay. If there was one thing Philip Shae knew how to do, it was survive.

He’d survived his upbringing, i.e., basically raised himself. His mother had had him young and made the brave choice to keep him, for which he would always be grateful, but having no help during the hard times had eventually took its toll on her and drugs had become her comfort. It hadn’t been so bad at first; then she’d picked up with the wrong guys, who got her into the harder stuff and before long… The only thing Philip could be grateful for was that by the time she really succumbed to addiction, he’d been old enough to look after himself. He knew his way around the kitchen, could make a mean PB+J or instant Mac’n’Cheese. He knew about rent, or enough about it to remind his mother when it was due at least. They’d gotten kicked out of a couple of places over the years when his reminders had fallen on deaf ears but they’d never stayed at a shelter more than a couple weeks so he considered that a win.

Sometimes they’d be dirt poor and other times they’d be flush. His mom would take him to his favourite restaurant, buy him new clothes, gave him extra spending money so the kids at school wouldn’t mockingly call him “Poor Philip”. He used to wonder where the money came from but had seen enough of his mother’s life at that point to know better than to ask. Truthfully, he didn’t want to know. There were some things sons didn’t need to know about their mothers.

He used to wonder why his mother didn’t love him enough to kick her addition. Why he wasn’t enough for her. As he’d gotten older and started to fully understand all that addiction entailed, he’d realized that it wasn’t about him. That didn’t stop him from being resentful at times. He could barely remember his childhood because he’d been an adult for most of his life already, particularly the past few years when things had gotten progressively worse.

When he was younger, neighbours used to help out from time to time. They saw a young mother struggling to take care of her child and wanted to help out in whatever way they could be it donating a few meals, helping with groceries or babysitting Philip from time to time. As it became obvious that her problems weren’t quite so simple, people were less inclined to give away their hard-earned money to a junkie, though they still spared a few things for Philip here and there, along with their pitying looks. If their situation hadn’t been so dire, Philip’s pride would never have allowed him to accept their charity. Soon enough, even that barely made a dent in their needs and Philip was forced to find other ways to provide for them.

When Philip was thirteen, he realized that he wasn’t like other boys. Truthfully, he’d felt that way for many years but it became really obvious one day in the locker room after gym when the other boys were joking around, talking about the girls in their class with the biggest boobs and bragging about which ones they could get. Philip hadn’t joined in – not that he’d been invited to – but he found himself thinking about those girls and realized that he had zero interest in their body parts, boobs or otherwise. Some of them were pretty enough, they simply didn’t interest him. Neither did the boys but the majority of them were a hot mess of bad attitudes and acne. There really wasn’t anything there to find interesting.

There _was_ one boy, though. Timmy Hunt.

Like Philip, he was often picked on, but not because he was poor. He was an introverted, studious kid who smiled quietly at anyone who called his name, even if it was directly followed by an insult. Their words never seemed to faze him. Philip, who was sometimes quick to anger even if he didn’t act on it, envied his cool. Unlike Philip, Timmy had friends. They weren’t the popular kids and were often picked on themselves but they were friends and Philip envied him that too.

Timmy was his first crush. Philip didn’t even realize it was a crush until Timmy moved, despite the fact that he found himself thinking of Timmy a lot, especially at night. He didn’t know that it was a crush when he stole glances at Timmy in the showers, memorizing the way water sluiced over his developing body. Even when he jerked off to thoughts of Timmy, he brushed it off as easily explainable. Timmy was one of the few kids in class who was nice to him. He talked to him without hesitation or worry for his reputation; he occasionally shared his lunch or snacks with him; he even walked with him after school a couple times when Timmy was going to meet his mom after work.

Timmy was perfect, so of course he had to move. God forbid Philip Shae has nice things.

By fourteen Philip had accepted that he was gay, he just didn’t know what to do about it. No one at school knew and he saw no reason to tell his mother yet, assuming he could ever find her sober enough to do so, so he kept it to himself. There were no other “out” kids and the last thing he wanted was to give the bullies more reason to pick on him.

High school was better and worse in turns. It was better because he finally had friends of a sort, or people he hung out with at least, and absolutely no one cared that he was gay. He didn’t broadcast it across the PA system but if it came up, he wouldn’t deny it. But one fact still remained. Well, two rather. He was still poor and his mother was still a junkie. They were on welfare by that point, which helped along with the pittance of a salary his mother got when she deigned to show up for work, but they were always at risk of having it yanked and Philip was always on the verge of being in foster care because his mother couldn’t get clean and _stay_ clean. CPS had been called more than a few times and he’d had to spend a couple nights here and there in foster or group homes but it never lasted, thank God. Those places were nowhere as nice as Gabe and Helen’s. Somehow his mother always convinced them that he was better off at home with her. His mom wasn’t a violent junkie, had never stopped being a sweet woman even in the heights of her addiction, so he could believe it. They probably kept giving her chances because they felt that if she cared enough to keep coming back for him, eventually she’d start putting Philip first.

No such luck on that front.

Puberty taught Philip a lot of things; high school taught him the rest.

He’d always been a cute kid, he knew that, but he wasn’t aware that his brand of cute was marketable until he hit his growth spurt. He’d gotten taller but his face was still round and innocent looking and he could still pass for twelve. One of his friends at school had told him to use _it_ to his advantage but he hadn’t even known what _it_ was at first. Not until his mother brought Jack home.

On the surface, Jack seemed like a nice guy, better than most of his mother’s previous beaus. And he always brought food with him, which won him major points with Philip, even if he didn’t care to actually get to know the guy. They never lasted long so what was the point?

He tried to engage Philip in conversations about sports and girls, neither of which Philip knew anything about or was willing to indulge. Philip always took his share of the eats to his room and stayed there for the rest of the night if he could help it. He hated seeing his mother shoot up. Jack didn’t seem to be has hooked as his mom was, he certainly seemed sober after partaking of whatever drug happened to be the favor of the night, but he didn’t stop Anne from going overboard and that made him just as guilty as she was in Philip’s book.

Sometimes Jack left when his mom passed out; sometimes he stayed for breakfast. He made pancakes, good ones too, which Philip ate on the fly on his way out the door despite Jack’s invitation to stay and eat.

Philip never noticed anything off about Jack. The guy never crossed any boundaries with him so why would he have cause to suspect anything? He was his mom’s boyfriend of the moment: nice enough but nothing to write home about and he’d ultimately get tired and move on like all the rest. No one wanted a junkie with a teenager on their hands.

That summer, they’d had a bad heat wave. The AC had been broken for months so he’d gone to bed in just his underwear and left the window open for whatever measly breeze there was to cool him.

He’d been out cold when he’d heard his mother’s voice. It was barely a muffle but it had penetrated his subconscious enough to get him sitting up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

_“Mom?”_ he’d whispered, voice thick with sleep.

The room had been dark but there was enough light coming through the window and from the hallway for him to make out a figure at the foot of his bed and his mom’s silhouette in the doorway.

If his mom was at the door, then the figure had to be Jack. Why was Jack naked though, he’d wondered? At least he’d looked that way. His vision was still blurry and all he could make out was Jack’s shape and lots of skin.

_“Go back to sleep, honey.”_ His mom’s voice had been surprisingly cool, not at all warm like it usually sounded when she spoke to him.

He’d been about to ask her something else but then Jack had repeated her words, softly telling him to go back to sleep. Philip had looked from one to the other before deciding that questions could wait for the morning.

He’d buried his face in his pillow and heard his door click shut seconds later.

The next morning, he’d awakened to the smell of bacon and assumed that Jack was making breakfast again but when he’d gone to the kitchen, he’d only found his mom. Her expression had been serious and she’d looked far more sober than he could remember seeing her in years.

_“Where’s Jack?”_ he’d asked, thinking that the dream he’d had was fricking weird and wondering if he should tell her about it.

_“Jack won’t be coming around here anymore,”_ she’d said, voice far too calm for someone who’d supposedly been dumped.

A quick look around told him that all of Jack’s stuff was gone too. There wasn’t a hint of him visible in the apartment, whereas just the day before his shit had been everywhere.

It was then that he’d realized that his “dream” might not have been a dream after all.

He’d told a friend about it when school opened. Ivan was as stereotypically gay as they came and proud of it. He went out of his way to make homophobes feel uncomfortable being around him. He always said that the least he could do was fulfill their expectations.

It was Ivan who’d told him to use _it_ to his advantage. Still not knowing what _it_ was, Philip had only looked at him in confusion.

“ _You can’t honestly tell me that you don’t see how they look at you,”_ Ivan had blurted in disbelief, quickly followed by, _“You poor, clueless summer child,”_ when Philip failed to respond.

So apparently, at least according to Ivan, Philip was some kind of pervy-old-dude magnet. Jack hadn’t been _old_ exactly but it was kind of gross to think about guys his age or older looking at him and seeing…well, sex or a sex object at least. But Ivan had convinced him that he could use it to his advantage.

And thus he’d had his first trip to a gay bar.

He’d gotten a lot of drinks and a fair amount of numbers, which Ivan deemed a success. Numbers had no value to Philip, however.

_“Well, if you do_ stuff _for them, they’ll give you money.”_

His immediate thought had been _“what kind of stuff?”_ but even Philip wasn’t naïve enough not to know what it meant. He was a city kid. Stuff almost always referred to either drugs or sex, depending on the context. In this case, it was definitely sex.

No matter how hard-up they might be, Philip had never once considered selling himself for cash, or things. It just never crossed his mind and it wasn’t something he ever thought he would, or _could_ , do. But Ivan convinced him that it didn’t need to go that far; that some guys gave without getting anything in return. You just had to know which ones to play.

He watched Ivan do it and it seemed simple enough but Ivan had no problem crossing those lines that Philip couldn’t. It gave him experience that little high-school boys never could, he’d explained.

Philip took baby steps, accepting drinks and flirting even if their attention made his skin crawl. He always told them that he was eighteen but it was obvious that he was lying and that seemed to turn them on even more, which made him sick to his stomach. But if he went home with an extra $20, it was worth it. $20 was another week’s groceries; two if he could bulk-buy and make it stretch.

The first time someone tried to solicit him, Philip immediately ran in the opposite direction. The second time, he calmly turned the guy down but the guy wouldn’t let up, asking him what he was willing to do and waving a $50 in his face. All Philip could see when he looked at it was his empty fridge and the food that money could buy. He’d decided to be brave, downed his drink, and asked the guy what he was willing to settle for. $50 wasn’t enough for sex, even Philip knew that, but more than enough for a BJ. Philip refused outright so the guy settled for a hand-job. Philip had fooled around with Ivan a bit – practice Ivan called it – so he wasn’t entirely virginal but Ivan was his friend, someone he was comfortable with, and this was completely out of his element.

They’d gone to the bathroom, locked themselves in a stall and the guy got his dick out but Philip soon realized that giving someone else a hand-job wasn’t the same as jerking himself off. The confined space of the stall made it all even more awkward. The guy seemed to catch on quickly but instead of making fun of Philip for it, his inexperience seemed to turn him on even more. The guy was nice about it, if one could use that word given the situation, and talked him through it. When it was done, the guy left first and Philip proceeded to empty the contents of his stomach.

He’d stayed away from the club for over a week, not going back until the fridge was empty for three days straight and he couldn’t hold out anymore.

He’d tried not to make a habit of it and he only touched the guys if he absolutely had to. Most of them seemed content to just talk to him and he realized that they were just as lonely as he was. If they left him money, he took it as their way of saying thanks for the company. Some were more aggressive but he tended to stay away from the overly pushy ones. Ivan had warned him to trust his instincts and he did. He never left the club with any of them and always took a circuitous route home in case someone decided to follow him.

Another bad encounter – this time him agreeing to let a guy give _him_ a hand-job that had left him feeling dirty and used – kept him from the club for a couple of weeks before desperation drove him back.

That was when he met Zach.

If Philip had a type, Zach was it. He was tall, blonde, green-eyed and extremely attractive. He was by far the best looking guy Philip had ever seen. And he’d dropped into the seat beside Philip and looked at him as if he was interesting; as if he was worthy of his time.

_“What’s a kid like you doing here?”_ he’d asked.

Right out of the gate, Philip had liked him. At least he wasn’t one of those guys that pretended to believe that Philip was eighteen.

Zach made him feel tongue-tied when he was usually unaffected and quick on his feet. That didn’t seem to deter him, though. He bought Philip a drink and led the conversation until Philip relaxed enough to remember that he had a brain.

Zach didn’t make a move on him, didn’t ask for anything, and Philip was surprised to find himself disappointed by it. Maybe this once, he wouldn’t have minded.

They’d parted ways and he’d gone home empty handed but it had honestly been the best night of his life.

The next day, he’d gone back to the club and was thrilled to see Zach there. This time, when Zach asked him what he was doing there, Philip replied honestly that he had books to buy. Zach didn’t press further, taking him at his word. The night went well and by the end, once again, nothing had happened. When Zach bid him goodbye and turned to leave, Philip had asked him where he lived, proceeding to offer to walk him home. Zach hadn’t said yes but he didn’t say no either, turning instead and starting down the street. They walked in silence for a couple of blocks before coming to a stop outside an apartment building. It wasn’t fancy but it was several steps up from the flop he lived in.

He’d managed to finagle an invite inside and discovered that the apartment was much nicer than the façade of the building hinted.

He’d hoped, maybe, that in the comfort of his home Zach might have tried to make a move on him or something. It wasn’t even about money at this point; Philip was crushing hard and wanted something for himself for a change.

No such luck, though Zach did ask him why he was at the club every night and where his parents were. Somehow he found himself telling Zach about his mom’s addiction. Usually adults offered him their condolences or tried to make him feel better, if not take advantage of his perceived vulnerability. Zach said nothing. He kicked off his shoes, shrugged out of his jacket, sat in his windowsill and lit a cigarette.

Perhaps it was the combination of the alcohol and unburdening his soul but Philip started yawning and Zach noticed so he offered him his couch and retired to his bedroom.

Philip didn’t see him again ‘til morning, not that he was awake long enough to notice if he came out again or not.

He woke early, feeling rested and stress-free for the first time in ages. The sun had just come up but he could hear Zach in the kitchen tinkering about.

Zach fed him breakfast with barely a word and sent him on his way. It wasn’t until he was back at his apartment changing for school that he’d found the $40 and note Zach had apparently stuck in his pocket when he wasn’t looking, or perhaps when he was asleep. The note read _“don’t spend it all in one place”_ , which made Philip realize that Zach hadn’t necessarily believed him yet he’d given him the money anyway. For some strange reason, it touched him.

Thus began a beautiful, if strange, friendship.

They saw each other almost every night for a month. His mom’s addiction was getting worse and she was barely aware of his presence some days. Some days she didn’t even have the strength to speak, barely mustering a sad, watery smile for his benefit. Staying at home was simply too depressing and Zach made everything better. He even let him stay over a couple nights a week, though he still never made a move. It became a point of contention for Philip, even though he never voiced it. He didn’t want Zach to feel like he wanted anything from him, not after he’d been so generous, and he certainly didn’t want to put him at risk of committing an illegal act because the fact remained that Philip was underage but he was becoming more attached and attracted to the man and sexually frustrated as a result. He didn’t even notice other men anymore, didn’t even talk to anyone else. If Zach wasn’t at the club, he left. It was that simple.

Things finally came to a head one night. He was at Zach’s place and had decided that if Zach wouldn’t make the move, he would.

Zach was sitting beside him on the couch, puffing away on a joint. Philip had taken a few hits for courage but he wanted a clear head when he did what he was about to do.

He slid closer to Zach and placed a hand on his thigh. Zach looked down at the hand but said nothing, which gave Philip the last bit of encouragement he needed.

Zach tasted like smoke, which may not have been the most pleasant taste for a first kiss but all Philip could think was that Zach’s lips were on his and Zach hadn’t pushed him away and that made it the best first kiss ever.

It didn’t last long but Philip’s cheeks were flushed by the time he pulled back, butterflies buzzing in his stomach.

He’d looked at Zach, expecting, _hoping_ , that he would take the hint that Philip wanted him and make a move. Instead, he got the worst news possible.

_“I’m leaving tomorrow.”_

He’d known that Zach wasn’t from New York. He never told Philip exactly what he did but he’d known that he was there for work and would be leaving at some point. Philip had just conveniently forgotten about it.

_“If you were eighteen,”_ Zach had gone on to say, _“I would’ve kissed you the first night we met. Among other things, if you’d let me.”_

It was mollifying in a way, to know that Zach wanted him as much as he wanted Zach, but none of that mattered because Philip was too young and this was goodbye.

He’d wanted to cry, thinking about returning to his bleak existence with nothing to look forward to anymore, and maybe seeing that had spurred Zach to hug him. Philip couldn’t remember the last time he’d been held. His mom hugged him from time to time, of course, but mom hugs were different and sometimes they hurt because they didn’t change who and what she was.

The following morning, he’d skipped school to watch Zach pack. Before going into the shower, Zach reached for his wallet. He handed Philip a business card with his full name, address and contact number.

_“If you’re ever in my neck of the woods and need a couch to crash on, look me up.”_

He’d then handed him $100.

Lukas had complained about being conned out of his weekly allowance of $100 but Philip had never had that much money to call his own. Hell, the only time he’d even touched $100 bills had been to pay the rent.

_“Will that be enough?”_ he’d asked.

Philip’s throat had been thick with tears so he’d only nodded. He’d wanted to give it back because he’d rather have Zach than the money but self-preservation always came first and $100 would go a long way. Besides, Zach was leaving whether he took the money or not.

Perhaps realizing that Philip needed a moment to gather himself, Zach had ruffled his hair playfully and gone into the bedroom. Philip waited for the shower to come on before letting himself out. He couldn’t bear to see him leave.

He still had the card; he took it out every now and again to remind himself that strangers were capable of kindness. The world wasn’t absolute shit, even if it seemed that way most of the time.

Not two months later, he’d found his mother’s dead boyfriend and was carted off to foster care.

The loud honk of a horn jerked Philip out of his thoughts, making him stumble as he stepped to the side of the road. He tripped over his feet and fell. He laughed even as he winced and rubbed at his sore ass. Looking around, it took him a moment to orient himself.

He was near the old train tracks.

Lukas had brought him there on one of their “lessons”, back when he was teaching him to ride. No one ever went there, Lukas had said. It would be safe for practicing…and other stuff. Certainly more _stuff_ had gone down than actual practicing but Philip hadn’t minded. He’d been too in love to care.

_Love…_

If there was one thing that he was grateful to Lukas for, it was showing him that he was capable of love. There’d been a couple guys before Lukas – after Zach – but those had been flings. He’d gone into them knowing that they wouldn’t last. That’s why he’d never gone all the way. Even as jaded as he was, he still wanted his first time to _mean_ something. And he loved his mother, of course, but it wasn’t the same. He used to wonder if it would ever happen to him: love. It was funny, and sad, that when he’d finally found it, it was with someone who was as broken as his mother. Maybe he was only capable of loving broken things. Perhaps it was because he was broken too.

But Lukas didn’t want his love. He’d offered it to him and Lukas had thrown it back in his face. He didn’t want anything from Philip. He had, for a time, but now Philip was proving to be more trouble than he was worth. Gabe and Helen didn’t want him; Zach hadn’t wanted him. No one wanted him, not even his mother. Maybe he just wasn’t wantable.

Clinging to his bottle, Philip looked around. He hunkered deeper into his hoodie, wishing he still had his grandfather’s leather jacket. It was one of the few possessions he’d cherished despite that fact that he’d never met the man. One of the few things he’d had throughout his life that had always been unquestionably _his_. Now, even that was lost to him. It felt like losing a part of himself.

He needed to get off the road, he knew that, but he had nowhere to go. He couldn’t go home… No, Gabe and Helen’s would never be home. That pipe dream was dead. Besides, home was supposed to be where the heart is but his heart was with Lukas and his mother and neither of them were good for him. Neither of them were available to him. Even if he hiked his way back into the city, all that awaited him was a cold, empty apartment. And for all he knew, their neighbours had picked it clean. Maybe the landlord had already turned it over and rented it out.

Where he found the strength to stand, Philip didn’t know. A bone-deep weariness had taken hold of him and it took all of his strength to keep moving. But it made sense, he supposed, because it was the only thing he knew how to do. When life knocked him down, he got back up. It was ingrained in his DNA.

Taking a fortifying sip of his almost depleted drink, he started walking again. He still had no destination in mind and it honestly didn’t matter at this point.

He’d keep walking until his feet could no longer carry him or he reached oblivion, whichever came first.


	2. Lukas

His body moved on autopilot: bending to pick up litter with one hand and tossing it into the garbage bag in the other.

He was tired, so fucking tired. He was so tired that he was tired of being tired. But tiredness seemed to be part and parcel of how he was now.

The party had been a bad idea, but funnily enough it hadn’t even been his. His dad was the one who’d suggested that he have some friends over, even going so far as to offer to buy a few cases of beer. The fact that his conservative father was not only willing to overlook but go so far as to bankroll underage drinking in his own house had thrown Lukas for a loop. Then again, this was the man who’d practically offered to pay for Rose’s phantom abortion. He was surprising Lukas a lot lately.

It made him realize just how important being “normal” was to his father. Drinking underage was expected and a pregnancy scare apparently wasn’t as alarming nowadays as it would’ve been fifty or even twenty years ago. It was par for the course of raising a healthy, socially and sexually well-adjusted teenager. Or so his father seemed to believe.

He wondered what he’d say if he knew that Lukas was anything but that.

Sighing wearily, Lukas dropped the bag and sat on the grass beside it. His looked out over the vast expanse of dark greenery, his eyes eventually coming to rest on Philip’s tree.

He shouldn’t have been surprised to see him there; not after the disaster of a lunch.

His dad had warned him to be civil to Philip and he had been. He hadn’t said a word to him directly; hadn’t even looked in his direction if he could help it though he’d felt Philip’s eyes on him every five minutes.

They’d left as soon as was politely possible and gone into town to buy drinks and snacks for the party. His dad had even sprung for pizzas. No one could say that Bo Waldenbeck’s son didn’t throw the best parties.

Philip turning up had affected him more than it should have. He was still angry with him and that had been the first thing he’d felt when he saw him but it wasn’t the only thing. He couldn’t help noticing Philip’s sad eyes. He hated seeing him hiding behind a tree, sneaking around like he didn’t know if he’d be welcome. Kissing Rose had been cruel, not just to Philip but to Rose as well, but knowing that hadn’t stopped him from doing it. He simply couldn’t help himself. He was just so angry.

Philip was different. He’d never met anyone like him. When he’d told Lukas to trust him, it had never occurred to him not to. He knew that Philip was only trying to help but Lukas had had things under control, dammit. Philip had no right. He could’ve at least talked to him before going to Helen. At least then Lukas might have been able to talk him out of it. But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d made the decision for him and Lukas hated that. He already felt like most of his life was out of his control; telling Helen, or not, was one of the few things he’d had power over and Philip had taken it away from him.

It was his own fault, in a way. The fear had been eating him up inside and he hadn’t been handling it well. Philip thought he was afraid of people finding out about them, and he was, but it went way beyond that. Perhaps if he’d explained to Philip exactly why he was so afraid, this misunderstanding might never have happened but Lukas had never been good with words. He’d told Philip that. No one expected him to talk. They thought he was the cool, silent type. Even Rose didn’t seem to care much if he had anything to say. Sometimes she griped about his lack of an opinion but whenever he tried, she dismissed or disagreed with him altogether. She had this idea of what their perfect relationship was supposed to be and sometimes keeping his mouth shut just seemed to be the way to go.

Lukas was afraid of many things, and that was the problem. The possibility of being…of being like _Philip_ was one of them. Before Philip, he’d never met a gay person and prior to the previous year, he’d never had to think about his stance on homosexuality; whether he was for or against it. There’d been a guy in the last senior class who’d come out at graduation but he’d made sure to do it when his entire school career had ended. There wouldn’t be any gossiping in the school hallways, no snide or homophobic comments. Any fallout would be someone else’s problem, namely his family’s. And there had been, fallout that is. They’d become known as the parents with the gay son; his siblings the ones with the gay brother. It didn’t matter that his parents had disowned him. It didn’t distance them enough from what he was; what he’d proudly proclaimed himself to be.

On one hand, Lukas admired the kid. It took guts, the strength of which he couldn’t ever imagine having. On the other, he couldn’t bear to have that happen to him: being ostracized. He couldn’t do that to his father.

His father…that was another reason he was afraid. He wasn’t fearful of him; he was afraid _for_ him. Lukas felt as badly as Philip did about what had happened to Tommy and Tracy. He wished to God that they’d been spared. But Philip didn’t seem to realize that by coming forward they could potentially put themselves on the killer’s radar. He’d tracked Tommy down; who was to say word wouldn’t get out that they were the real witnesses? Nothing stayed secret in a small town. Philip had found that out the hard way just recently.

Lukas was terrified of something happening to him but worse than that was the thought of what losing him would do to his father. After his mother, he didn’t know if his dad could survive another loss. And if, God forbid, the killer killed his father to get to him, Lukas would be an orphan. He’d have no one left. Though she might be a junkie, Philip still had his mother. She was safe, tucked away in rehab. It was unlikely that the killer could get to her there. And despite her problems, Lukas hadn’t been kidding when he’d said that Philip was lucky to have her. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to have his mom back; to have just five more minutes with her.

Even though he didn’t talk about it, his dad had obviously never gotten over her. Rose waxed poetic about dying young, dying for love, as if it was something to aspire to. As if it was romantic. She’d never been touched by death. She hadn’t seen how such a loss ravaged the survivors. She didn’t know how it felt to need someone and know that they were never going to be there; what it was like to miss someone and know they were never coming back. Lukas did; his dad did. There was nothing beautiful or romantic about it. He often wanted to tell her to stop talking about things she knew nothing about but as usual, he held his tongue.

His dad had never dated after his mother passed; had probably never even considered remarrying. He’d focused his attentions on the farm and Lukas. He’d indulged his whims and fancies, buying him his bike when he’d shown an interest in motocross. But as far as his father was concerned, it was just a hobby. It was Lukas’ destiny to inherit the farm and continue family tradition just like he had. It probably never once occurred to him that Lukas might want something different for himself; that motocross might potentially be a lucrative career.

Sure, he basked in Lukas’ wins and the attention it got him, but none of that mattered to his dad. It wasn’t real. The farm, the animals: those were real. Rose was real. He wouldn’t be surprised if his dad had already married them off in his mind. He liked Rose and was close to her parents. They’d been friends their whole lives so a romance seemed a natural progression. They made _sense_.

Lukas had thought so too, at first. It didn’t matter that they were different people. Opposites attract, and all that. It wasn’t until he met Philip that he learned the truth of that saying. He and Philip were nothing alike, they were cut from completely different cloths, yet it didn’t stop them from enjoying each other’s company and Lukas could honestly admit that he’d learned more from Philip in the short time he’d known him than he had from Rose their entire life.

Then there was the matter of physical attraction. He used to think that he was a late bloomer. He’d kissed other girls before Rose but he’d been too young to want more than that and if it sucked, it was because they were all inexperienced. With Rose, he’d refined his kissing technique but he hadn’t had any interest in taking things further so when she’d told him that she wanted to wait, he was all for it. He assumed that by the time she was ready, his nether regions would be on board. He’d been wrong on that score, as he’d found out recently, but even before she’d changed her mind, Philip had come along and turned his world upside down.

There’d never been a question of whether or not he was attracted to Philip. Hell, he’d noticed him his first day at school. He hadn’t dared talk to him, of course. Pretty much everyone was keeping their distance despite talking about nothing else. That was one of the things he hated about small-town life. What was the point in gossiping about someone when you could just as easily talk to them? He was probably a hypocrite for judging others since he hadn’t had the guts to approach Philip until he’d already been there a month and only because no one had been around.

He’d stumbled upon him taking pictures out in the woods on his way to his training track and he’d stopped to watch him for a bit before Philip had finally noticed that he was there. It’d been awkward at first but then he’d remembered that Philip had been filming stuff and asked if he could do him a favor by filming him at the track. To his surprise, Philip had agreed.

He’d wondered about what kind of person Philip would be. While no one had approached Philip, he’d also pretty much put up a wall of his own, warding everyone off and keeping to himself. It made some of the kids feel that he looked down on them because he was from the city and they were small-towners. As it turned out, they would probably be completely surprised to find out that Philip embodied none of the ego they’d expected. He was confident but he was also kind and witty and smart and too many other things to list.

Also, _attractive_.

That first day, Lukas had had to force himself to stop staring at Philip’s lips. Philip seemed so normal and the last thing he’d wanted to do was freak him out by staring at him for too long. If Philip hadn’t kissed him in the cabin, Lukas might never have known he was gay. He wasn’t blind, he’d seen Philip looking at him too, but part of him had wondered if it wasn’t Philip reacting to his own wayward glances. Maybe Philip had been wondering about whether _he_ was gay instead. The thought made his palms sweat because if Philip could see it, if he even suspected, then maybe others did too.

Alas, things had unfolded quite unexpectedly.

He’d been genuinely shocked when Philip kissed him and had reacted badly but as soon as the panic had passed, the realization that Philip was interested in him(too) had set in. His heart had begun to beat triple-time and his stomach had hurt from the anxiety but it was too good an opportunity to pass up. He’d never felt remotely like this with anyone else. Even if it was their only time together – he hadn’t even considered the possibility of a repeat – he just wanted to know what wanting someone and being wanted in return felt like. He’d never expected to like it so much. Being with a boy was just…wrong on so many levels but the warmth and softness of Philip’s skin beneath his hands, the inviting curves of his lips against his, the way Philip held him close and the way he couldn’t find it within himself to pull away: it didn’t _feel_ wrong.

It didn’t take him long to realize that being with Philip felt right in ways that being with Rose never did. Even after the murders, he couldn’t stop thinking about him. Every time they were together, he couldn’t stop himself from touching him. His emotions were all over the place. One minute he wished Philip would just shut up and leave him alone, would let him forget what they’d seen and go back to the way things were, and the next he wanted to hold onto him for dear life because Philip was the only one who understood what he was going through. He’d hated Philip for making him feel things that he knew he shouldn’t but at the same time, he couldn’t find the strength to let him go.

When Philip told him to trust him, he’d taken it to heart. His life had literally depended on it.

That was probably why he’d felt so betrayed when Philip went to Helen. Apart from his dad, he’d never trusted anyone with something so important. He’d never had anything to trust anyone with until Philip had come into his life. He could admit that, perhaps subconsciously, he blamed Philip for turning his life upside down. If Philip had never moved to town or if he hadn’t kissed him, none of this would’ve ever happened. He knew that a lot of what had happened since was his own fault but going back to the beginning, it had been all Philip. That kind of thinking was unfair but it was honestly how he felt.

He wondered if, knowing what would follow, Philip would do it all over. If he’d even want him again.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he grabbed the bag and got to his feet. His dad would be back early in the morning and he still had a lot of cleaning up to do. It was probably a good thing that he’d sent everyone home as soon as the alcohol ran out. Rose had offered to stay and help but he’d seen through her offer to what she really meant: they had an empty house wherein they could finally consummate their relationship. Sex, especially with her, was the last thing on his mind. In fact, it was becoming more difficult by the day to stomach her affections. Before he’d been aware of who he was, he’d gone through the motions without any problem. He’d still had hope that something would click one day and he’d return her feelings. Now that he’d tasted true lust and desire, having someone he felt absolutely nothing for touch and paw at him was borderline unbearable. He felt guilty for thinking that way, Rose deserved so much better, but he couldn’t help it. He was starting to hate having her hands on him.

He made quick work of cleaning up the back yard, knowing that the front would be ten times worse, and was just dumping the full bag in the bin and grabbing a fresh one when he heard a familiar siren out front.

Frowning, he walked through the house, pausing inside the screen door when he saw the lights of the Sheriff’s jeep flashing.

What the hell was Helen doing here?

Nerves tempting him to turn around and ignore her, he took a deep breath and went out onto the porch. Gabe was with her and he met them at the bottom of the steps.

“Lukas,” Helen greeted, before he could say anything. “Is Philip here?”

Lukas froze, immediately going on the defensive. “No. Why would he be?”

“We just thought that…” It was Gabe who spoke this time. “Maybe he might have stopped by.”

“I haven’t seen him,” he lied, ignoring the tiny voice that urged him to do the right thing for once.

“Are you sure?” Helen pressed. “He took off after lunch and we haven’t seen him since. He hasn’t been home and no one we’ve asked seems to know where he is.”

“Sorry, can’t help you. The party was invite only and he wasn’t invited, so…” He didn’t know why he was being so mean, the words just seemed to have a mind of their own.

Helen’s lips thinned into a grim line and she opened her mouth as if to say something before thinking better of it and grinding her teeth.

Once again, it was Gabe who spoke, his tone even and reasonable. “If you do happen to see him, please let us know.”

He wanted to say that the chances of that were unlikely but instead he stilled his tongue and nodded shortly.

He watched them drive off before heading back into the house, trashed lawn forgotten.

He tried not to let it get to him but seeing Helen and Gabe so worried ignited concern for Philip within him as well. It wasn’t the first time Philip had taken off without saying anything but if he wasn’t with Lukas, secretly off course, then he was off visiting his mom. This time, neither of those was a possibility.

He was probably just sulking somewhere and had lost track of time.

Grumbling to himself, Lukas pulled out his phone and sent off a quick text.

_Hey asshole, your parents were just here looking for you. Get your head out of your ass and let them know you’re okay._

He set his phone down, pushing Philip and his visitors to the back of his mind, grabbed the garbage bag and headed back out. It took him almost half an hour to return the front yard to its former glory. He hoped he hadn’t missed anything. Even if his dad had green-lighted the party, he’d still expect everything to be spick and span upon his return.

After dumping the garbage bag, he checked his phone, frowning when he saw no reply. If Philip really was off somewhere feeling sorry for himself then he probably wouldn’t respond anyway. Still, Lukas shoved his phone into his back pocket and set about straightening the house.

By the time he was finished, it was midnight and exhaustion had him unsteady on his feet. He shed his clothes and took a quick shower, changing into loose sweats and an old T-shirt before flopping onto his bed. He glanced at his bedside table where a glass of water and a pink pill waited.

After his failed drug-buy and his attempt to get Philip to procure drugs for him, he’d gone into the city himself one day and found someone who sold what he needed. He’d been taking them every night since. He was almost out, which meant he’d have to get his hands on some cash soon because one card cost more than his weekly allowance, but it was the only thing helping him sleep at night; the only thing keeping him sane. If he didn’t take it, he would wake from nightmares, sweating profusely and unable to go back to sleep for fear of what his tortured mind might conjure. That wasn’t an option.

Instead of reaching for the glass, however, he grabbed his chucked jeans from the floor and dug his phone out. Seeing no reply, he sent off another text.

_At least let me know you’re alive, dickhead._

He didn’t know how long he stared at his phone but it was almost 1:00am by the time he decided that he needed to do something. He’d just look around the property, he told himself as he threw on a hoodie over his t-shirt and stuck his feet into sneakers. It was possible that Philip had fallen asleep somewhere.

He grabbed a flash-light as he headed out the back-door and made his way to the last place he’d seen Philip. He wasn’t there, not that he expected him to be, but he continued to search the area, making his way from the cluster of trees to the many buildings dotting the farm.

As he searched, a sense of urgency settled in his chest. He knew that he wouldn’t get a wink of sleep until Philip turned up. But it wasn’t until he found Philip’s bike that the panic really set in. If Philip’s bike was here but he wasn’t, that meant that he’d left the farm on foot. Helen’s house was maybe ten miles away. He’d hope that Philip wasn’t stupid enough to try to walk that, not in the state he’d been in.

_“Shit!”_

Racing back to the house, Lukas grabbed his keys, locked up and jumped onto his bike.

“You idiot,” he swore beneath his breath.

He picked a direction and headed that way, hoping it was the right one. He had no idea where Philip would have gone. He had no friends in the area and he couldn’t walk all the way to the city, although Lukas wouldn’t put it past his fool-head to try. If he was on the road, Helen would’ve found him by now or someone would have seen him which meant that he’d gotten off somewhere.

_Think, Lukas, think._

Philip wouldn’t go back to the cabin, would he? Besides being too far, it held too many bad memories for both of them. But maybe… No, that would be suicidal. There was always the chance that the murderer was keeping tabs on the place, for whatever reason.

Where else could he be?

Apart from the city, all of the places they’d gone to were only relevant to Lukas. They meant nothing to Philip. Except…

_The tracks!_

After their trip to the gay club in the city, it was the only other place that Lukas had kissed him again out in the open, and during the daytime to boot. Philip had looked so happy, brown eyes shining brightly expression soft and…

And that was when Lukas realized that Philip loved him. Even before he’d said it that day at school, the day he’d confronted Philip about spilling his guts to Helen and Philip had confessed as he explained his actions, Lukas had already known. He’d known and he’d held that knowledge close to his heart. It made him feel warm and wanted and above all else, understood. Philip saw him, the _real_ him, and he loved him anyway. But it hadn’t stopped him from shoving Philip away and pretty much telling him to go fuck himself.

_Good going, Lukas._

As he turned onto the tracks, he called out Philip’s name. Any other day, he might have felt silly and exposed but there was no time to worry about being embarrassed or exposing…What? If anyone asked, if anyone else was out at this godforsaken hour, he could simply say that he was helping Helen look for him. But he didn’t care what anyone thought just then. All that mattered was finding Philip and making sure that he was safe.

The tracks ran all the way to the next town but Lukas knew Philip wouldn’t have gone that far. He spotted him easily enough, sitting in the grass at the side of the tracks.

Cutting off his bike, he ran over to where Philip was and knelt in front of him.

“Philip! Are you okay? Are you hurt?” His clothes were dirty and grass-stained, like he’d fallen at some point, but he looked none too worse for wear.

Philip looked up at him through bleary eyes, watching him like he didn’t recognize him at all, and it was then that he noticed the bottle he clutched tightly to his chest. It was the same one Lukas had thrown at him earlier. Someone had brought it to the party and whatever it was was downright disgusting. That was why Lukas had thrown it away. He’d never thought that Philip would actually pick it up.

“What have you done to yourself?” Lukas muttered.

“Why are you here?” Philip asked, his voice sounding throaty and unused, like he hadn’t spoken in hours. “You can’t be here. You don’t have the right. Not after you threw me away.”

His words were a lance through Lukas’ heart. They were probably no less than he deserved. He’d been mean to Philip ever since he found out that Philip had gone to Helen and he’d seen how bad things had gotten for Philip at school once word came out that he was gay and in therapy and he hadn’t lifted a finger to help him. The latter wasn’t because he wanted Philip to suffer, though. He was actually paralyzed by fear at the thought that helping Philip might somehow reveal his own secret. As much as it pained him to see Philip being bullied, because no matter what he’d done to Lukas he didn’t deserve that, he couldn’t risk being outed by standing up for him. Knowing it made him a coward didn’t make him want to be any less of one. Not when so much was at stake.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. They were probably the first honest words out of his mouth in weeks. “I never meant to… I just…”

“You don’t want me,” Philip murmured, tears shining in his eyes. “My mom loves me but not enough to choose me over drugs. Helen and Gabe think I’m a basket-case and wish I’d just go away. Even Zach left.”

_Who the fuck is Zach?_

Shaking his head, Lukas refocused. “They don’t think that,” he denied. He’d seen them with Philip before things went south and he would remember the fear and worry in their eyes tonight for a long time to come. They weren’t the faces of people who had given up. “They love you.”

“ _Love_ ,” Philip repeated mockingly. “Nobody _loves_ me. Maybe nobody can. Maybe I’m one of those people who simply isn’t loveable.”

“That’s not true. Your mom loves you. You just said so.”

Philip laughed but the sound was heart-breaking and tears streaked down his cheeks. “She does but she loves drugs more. She tries and I’m glad that she went to rehab but…we both know it won’t stick. She’ll come out and be good for a while and then…Rinse and repeat.”

Lukas remembered Philip saying that same thing once before, shortly after Anne had entered rehab. He couldn’t imagine loving someone so much and pretending to have faith in them for their benefit even while expecting them to fail and be disappointed once again. Philip’s devotion to his mother was commendable but it came at too high a price to himself.

“Maybe this time will be different,” he said, trying to sound hopeful for Philip’s sake. “Maybe she’ll make it.”

“Maybe.” Phillip sniffed and rubbed at his eyes until they were red but he wasn’t crying anymore. “Lots of _maybes_ tonight. It doesn’t matter. I can’t stay here. I have to go.”

Lukas frowned. “Go? Go where?”

Philip’s expression hardened. “What does it matter? Why do you care? You told me to leave. You said you wished I’d never come here.”

Lukas winced. Having his own words thrown back at him felt like he’d been physically smacked. He’d said a lot of things during their last conversation but he’d gotten extra mean when he’d realized that they were drawing an audience. He’d told Philip to stay away from him and _yes_ , he had said that he should’ve stayed in the city where he belonged.

“Helen and Gabe…”

Philip rolled his eyes. “Helen and Gabe don’t want me here any more than you do. I gave them a chance and when it mattered most, they let me down. Why should I give them another?”

“They’re good people. They…”

“Go away, Lukas,” Philip interrupted, clutching his bottle as if it gave him comfort. He suddenly looked aged. Not old but as if the years of his experiences had mapped themselves into his features, especially his eyes. They were far too weary for someone so young. “I’m tired. I don’t want to be tired anymore. I just want some rest. So leave me be.”

“Philip,” he pleaded.

“ _Leave_!”

That one word cut right through him and for a moment Lukas couldn’t breathe. When he caught himself, he got up, looking down at Philip one last time before he made his way back to his bike and took off.

He didn’t go far. He retraced his path up the tracks, nearer to the road, and hid his bike out of sight before texting Helen.

_He’s at the old train tracks._

Not two seconds later, his phone started to ring but he switched it off and double-backed towards Philip. It was easy enough to find a spot in the grass on the hill above him. His clothes were dark so he blended in with the surrounding inky blackness. The moon was bright overhead but not enough to penetrate all the shadows. So long as he kept his head covered and his face down, no one would notice him.

Philip had rolled onto his side, hugging the bottle like a teddy-bear. He was breathing evenly and after a while of him not moving, Lukas was pretty sure he’d fallen asleep.

His suspicions were confirmed when Helen and Gabe came walking down the track, flash-lights bouncing to and fro, calling his name. He didn’t even stir.

“Oh my God,” Helen exclaimed when she finally spotted him, running to close the gap between them. It was obvious that she’d thought he was hurt, at least until she rolled him onto his back and saw the bottle in his hands.

Gabe laughed but it was more out of relief than mirth.

Helen shook Philip and it took a minute to register.

When he opened his eyes, the first words out of his mouth were, “I don’t feel so good.”

Gabe had removed the bottle from his arms, opened it and upon taking a whiff of the nasty liquor screwed up his face and said, “I imagine not.”

“No, I really don’t…” Before he could finish, Philip pulled away from Helen and retched.

This time, both adults laughed; reaching for each other’s hand and gripping tightly. Lukas wished Philip could see them like this. If he did, he’d never doubt how much they cared for him.

Not wanting to intrude further, he shuffled backwards as quietly as he could until he was far enough back to stand without being seen and headed back to his bike.

He was back at home in no time at all, climbing into bed in his dark room. He wouldn’t sleep tonight, though. He couldn’t sleep without the pills and it didn’t feel right taking them, not after he’d just come back from seeing Philip.

Once upon a time, Philip had called him a spoiled rich kid. He hadn’t been wrong. Lukas had foolishly thrown away $100 on mints and he was desperate enough to pay whatever it cost to buy pills to help him sleep. But he knew what that kind of money meant to someone like Philip. He couldn’t imagine being in his shoes. To be honest, he’d never tried to.

What Philip was going through, the state he was currently in: it was all his fault. If they’d just gone to the police from the beginning like Philip had wanted to, none of this would be happening. Sure, they might be dead but who was to say they weren’t still going to die anyway? So long as the killer was in town, it was always a possibility.

They couldn’t continue like this. They were both falling apart at the seams.

Coming clean meant risking being found out and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t scare him to death. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d told Philip that no one expected him to be _that_ guy. He was still coming to terms with the fact that he _was_ “that” guy. He could only imagine the shock on his father’s face if he ever found out that…if he knew the truth about him. He didn’t want to be ostracized by his friends and the community. He didn’t want to shame his father; to diminish the Waldenbeck name. He couldn’t bear the thought of being disowned like that kid in the previous year had been. If his father turned his back on him, he’d have nowhere to go. His dad was all he had.

Rose was probably the most open-minded person he knew, not that she would be okay with him being… _not_ being into her, but she was far more evolved than the rest of his friends at least. She’d made him watch Brokeback Mountain with her – seeing the guys kiss and have sex had been nothing short of uncomfortable even though it hadn’t been particularly graphic – and she’d cried when the one dude died. She went on and on about cute gay couples in several shows that she watched but the storylines almost always seemed to end tragically, either by suicide or death and if not, then the couples simply didn’t last. Lukas wasn’t ignorant enough to think that TV was a true representation of real life but he couldn’t help but wonder because according to TV, being gay equated to death or just general unhappiness. For someone like him, who already feared losing everything, it made the temptation to continue living a lie that much harder to resist. What was the point of throwing away everything he had if he was still going to end up miserable anyway?

He often wondered what his mother would say if she were alive. He knew that she’d want him to be happy and she would support him in whatever decision he made but that was the problem: she wasn’t here. If she were, maybe he’d be strong enough to risk losing everything and everyone else because he’d know that he’d never lose her. But she was long gone and what he had left might not compare but it was all that he had.

He wanted to do the right thing but he didn’t want to become an outcast in the process. He’d spent his entire life flying under the radar. Sure, he was popular but he hadn’t really cultivated that popularity, apart from motocross anyway. Everyone knew him without actually _knowing_ him and that suited him just fine. Or it used to. Philip had made him realize that having someone know and understand him wasn’t necessarily a bad thing but Philip was special. Philip was _Philip_. There was no one else like him in town.

Rose might be able to forgive and support him, eventually. One day. He knew that she didn’t dislike Philip because he was gay; she disliked him because he was an outsider. In this town, though, it may as well be one and the same. If you didn’t fit the socially accepted mold, you didn’t belong. Once Lukas had thought to point out to her that not fifty years ago she and her family would have been seen as outsiders too; that the two of them wouldn’t have been allowed to date and if they had, it would’ve been frowned upon. He wondered how she of all people couldn’t recognize the hypocrisy but he didn’t want to bring race into it and he definitely didn’t want to make her feel bad so he held his tongue. It was always better when he kept his thoughts to himself.

Hours passed and he didn’t sleep, staring at his ceiling as he waited.

He didn’t know when he’d made up his mind. Probably when he’d found Philip, or maybe even before that. It didn’t matter. He was putting an end to this today.

At 5:30, he climbed out of bed. He needed to be gone before his dad got home. If he left too early after his dad returned, he’d ask questions. If he got to school late, or not at all, and his dad was called, he’d get in trouble. He needed to get through this without any parental interference whatsoever.

He brushed his teeth and showered again, dressing quickly. His stomach was in knots so he skipped breakfast.

He went to the storage shed and opened the box with his mother’s pictures, pushing them aside and removing the brown, paper bag beneath. He hadn’t wanted the gun in the house – his dad never went through his things but it was better to be safe than sorry and he simply hadn’t wanted it and what it represented anywhere near them – but he’d trusted her to keep it safe for him until he made up his mind what to do with it.

The ride into town was long, the early morning breeze whipping at his cheeks. He kept his mind carefully blank, not wanting to risk a last minute freakout, and was surprised to find that after a while he felt genuinely calm. It may have taken him a while to get there but in his gut he knew that he was doing the right thing.

Philip had been so strong for Lukas, after being strong for his mother: it was time for someone to be strong for him too. To put him first. Philip deserved it. He'd earned it. But more than that, it was time to put himself first. He couldn’t let the constant fear continue to rule him. Living like that meant that the murderer won either way and he’d be damned if he let the bastard have that kind of power over him for the rest of his life. The truth was going to come out today and if his secret happened to be revealed in the process, he’d deal with it. There were more important things at stake here. His peace of mind, if nothing else, was worth the risk.

He wasn’t surprised to find Helen at her desk when he walked into the station. This part of town was still rather deserted and no one else was around but Helen had a case to close so she probably spent more time there than she did at home.

Her surprise was evident when she looked up and saw him.

“Lukas, what are you…” She shook her head. “Before I forget, thanks for the heads-up last night. I tried to call back but it went straight to voicemail.”

He took a deep breath, nodded his head slightly, and walked up to her desk.

Wordlessly, he reached into his jacket and removed the brown paper bag. Holding her gaze, he placed it on her desk and pushed it towards her.

Confusion wrinkling her brows, she picked up the parcel. He saw the change in her face the second the weight and shape registered. Still, she opened the bag, exposing the gun-metal grey of the weapon.

Understanding was clear in her eyes now as Lukas said, “I think we need to talk.”


End file.
